


OCtober 2020

by Lolotte



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Gen, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27447538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolotte/pseuds/Lolotte
Summary: One-shots I wrote for OCtober 2020 over at r/fanfiction. Some were posted there. Some weren't.
Relationships: Dumah (Legacy of Kain)/Original Female Character(s), Kain (Legacy of Kain)/Original Character(s), Raziel (Legacy of Kain)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 5
Collections: Lolotte Does OCtober





	1. Introduction: Amara

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a LOT for r/fanfiction's OCtober event, mostly to get myself back into the swing of writing and to try and break whatever creative block 2020 set on me. 
> 
> I have edited and cleaned up a lot of these. The ones that are posted here may vary somewhat from what was posted on r/fanfiction. (But the important thing is that writing happened!)
> 
> I did choose to rewrite the character intros as stories they are telling us rather than post their profiles here as I did on r/fanfiction.
> 
> p.s. Nosgoth is an absolute crapsack world. Consider this author's note an all-encompassing content warning.

**AGE 16**

My name is Amara. I’m sixteen. How did I find myself here, at...whatever this is? I’ll tell you, but it sounds crazy. I promise I’m not crazy.

My parents were brewers who ran the inn outside my village. I just got married a week before. I was helping to prepare for the Summertide festival my village holds every year. Afterward, my husband and I snuck out to watch the play they put on every Summertide. And then--then a vampire attacked the village. We all ran, but he was too much for us. He killed everyone. If my husband hadn’t distracted him and given me time to run, I would have died, too.

I don’t know what happened. I ran. The vampire was catching up. I pushed a dial on my pendant--see, I’m wearing it now--I pushed the dial by accident and everything changed around me. I was by myself in a ruin, and a blue demon with glowing white eyes and this...this glowing thing wrapped around its arm was coming toward me, so I pushed the dial again, and then I was in the same place, only it wasn’t a ruin anymore.

I got to a village. The innkeeper took me in for a night, and then turned me over to the vampires in charge of this caravan. I told them I was from across the Southern Sea, but the truth is--and this is going to sound absolutely mad to you, but I promise I’m not lying--I think I’m from the future. From a really long time in the future. Where I’m from, Kain is just a legend. A story from a long, long time ago. But here--here he’s the Emperor.

You believe me, don’t you? I know how I sound but I promise it’s the truth. 

* * *

**AGE 21**

It’s you again. I’m sorry you have to see me this way, in this dusty abandoned palace. I got in over my head. See, I was a handmaid for Dumah’s Noble Consort, but I offended Lord Zephon so she sent me away to be a cloistered sister at Kain’s Mountain Retreat. I was to remain there until Kain emerged from stasis.

While I was away, someone murdered my former mistress. I couldn’t rest until I got justice for her. She was like a sister to me. I know, it’s a strange way for a human to think of a vampire, but...but it was true. She was one of the kindest, gentlest souls I ever met. So when Kain came out of stasis after I’d been there for two years, I made my move. He summoned his sons to the retreat, and I schemed my way into becoming Dumah’s concubine.

I didn’t expect him to be absolutely besotted with me. I certainly didn’t expect to return his feelings. I only became his concubine so I could investigate my mistress’s murder. He promoted me so quickly that I was the subject of a lot of vicious gossip. I had intended to keep my rank as low as possible, so as not to stand out.

My plan worked, though. I found out who was behind the murder and got my justice. After that, I would have been content to retire to the Dumahim halls and live a quiet life. But...everything went wrong. Lord Raziel went into stasis, and when he emerged only two years later, he had a gift that Kain had not yet received. And for his audacity, Kain tore the wings from his back and threw him into the Abyss.

My closest friend, Isa, was Raziel’s Noble Consort. I tried to shelter her. But Lord Zephon has a long memory and never forgot how I offended him. He used my sheltering of Isa as evidence that I, too, was a traitor. I...they took Isa. They made me watch...I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk about it.

I’m lucky I wasn’t sentenced to death. But being imprisoned here is almost worse. Dumah never stood up for me. Never said a word in my defense. And he hasn’t come. He promised he would come and he would free me, but he never has.

I’ve had enough of vampires and intrigue. If I ever find a way out of here...

* * *

**AGE 30**

How do you keep finding me? I fled centuries into Nosgoth’s past to escape my prison. How did you get here? I see.

Why am I wearing armor? Why did I cut my hair? I became a Sarafan acolyte. And I can’t fit long hair under a helm. I’ve no idea how the ones who can manage it.

Why are you looking at me like that? Are you asking how I could join the Sarafan?

I only did it to save my own life, at first. I did not believe. I cried when they shaved my head. But I see now how the vampires manipulated and led me away from my god. I have seen the damage the vampires will do to the world if we do not destroy them. You saw it, too! You saw the land dying and the sick way they treated us humans. If you defend them you’ll die like them.

Moebius the Timestreamer has taken me under his wing. He explained everything to me when we met. He knew of my coming. He saw the hell the vampires will turn Nosgoth into if we allow them to exist, and my story confirmed his worst fears. He is like a father to me. I trust him with my life. If it weren’t for him vouching for me, I may not have lived long enough to join the Sarafan order.

It wasn’t easy. You spent the first two years in the order as an acolyte, learning how to fight and pray and use magic. After that, they assign you to a commander. I was fortunate enough to be place under Inquisitor Dumah’s command. He was firm and fair…

The irony that Inquisitor Dumah and the vampire lord Dumah who took me as his concubine are one and the same is not lost on me. But the human Dumah was different. Better. We truly loved one another, he and I.

Why do I keep saying “he was”? You came at a bad time, friend. Not long after our victory over the infamous Janos Audron, Vorador and a strange blue demon attacked our stronghold. Vorador attacked the Circle of Nine and killed six of their number. The strange blue demon attacked the Inquisitors. Raziel, Turel, Dumah. Rahab, Zephon, Melchiah. They all fell. I tried to warn Dumah. I tried to stop him from going. I tried to go in his place. He wouldn’t allow it. By the time I had my armor on and my weapon in hand, it was too late. They were dead, and the blue demon was gone.

There was an elder vampire I recognized all too well in the chapel, however. Kain. The Emperor of a dying world. I don’t know why he traveled back in time and I don’t care. I couldn’t kill him when I was a weak little concubine, but as a Sarafan knight I thought I stood a chance.

I was wrong. He utterly defeated me before I could so much as swing my weapon. I don’t know why he left me alive.

Moebius promoted me to a paladin for my valorous attempt to defend the Inquisitors. What good is a promotion? The man I loved is dead and destined to be defiled by that foul beast, Kain. I told them to burn the Inquisitors’ bodies but...this era has different customs, I suppose.

If I have the chance to find that demon I’ll have my vengeance. I don’t care how long it takes. I’d go through the underside of Hell to destroy it.

* * *

**AGE ???**

You..? I recognize you, I think. You say we’ve spoken many times before? I’m sorry. I don’t remember much. I woke up alone in a crypt with no idea where I was or any of my memories. Moebius was there to explain things to me. Kain turned me into a vampire and abandoned me because I wasn’t useful to him. Are you telling me not to trust Moebius? You’re wrong. There’s no one else alive that I can trust. You look a little sad. Do you know something that I don’t remember? You don’t want to talk about it? Very well.

Here, it’s raining. Let’s duck into this cave. Why? Because water burns vampires like acid, that’s why. I hate this. I’m a crime against nature and nature itself is punishing me for it. Water burns. Sunlight weakens. I don’t even want to think about what will happen if I come into contact with fire.

I’m going to kill Kain for what he did to me, and to my brothers-in-arms. And when it’s all over, I’m going to set aside my arms and walk into the nearest lake, and then I will have atoned for all of my sins.


	2. Introduction: Imperial Consort Nenetesh

Congratulations on your selection. I’m Imperial Consort Nenetesh. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other, I’m sure. Remind me, which harem were you selected for? Ah, Rahab. How fascinating. His favorite concubines are those with exceptional beauty or talent. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say, and I suppose you must be very skilled at _something._

How old am I? How long have I served Emperor Kain? My, you’re a chatty little thing, aren’t you? I have served since very near the dawn of the empire, dear fledgling. When I was a mortal, the mayor of Freeport gave me to Kain as a gift. To keep his pathetic city free. I suppose he thought my exotic appearance would be gift enough. Before I was turned my skin was even darker than it is now, almost an inky blue-black. I honestly don’t know what that little worm was thinking. He was a man and human men are exceedingly short-sighted and stupid.

I wasn’t content to be an ornament (and you shouldn’t be, either). I snuck into the war room at the first chance I got and pointed out a flaw in Freeport’s walls that smugglers had been using for centuries. The vampires mounted a surprise attack, took Freeport, and I had the honor of being turned by Lord Raziel himself.

How did I become a concubine? I was chosen, of course. I can see that you’re about to ask me how to gain Emperor Kain’s favor, and that, child, is something you will have to learn for yourself. Don’t look at me like that. If you want status, earn it. And get used to disappointment. Kain rarely selects concubines these days and he usually stays well away from his sons’ harems.

How do you get promoted from concubine to consort? Serve your master well, dear. Make yourself useful. Earn his favor and keep it. All easier said than done, but I’m sure you’ll manage. You must be clever. 

I got promoted. Slowly, at first. That’s the best way to do it. Rising too quickly through the ranks draws unwanted envy and attention. And while I served, I watched and waited and learned. The Imperial Consort before me was weak and managed the affairs of the Inner Sanctuary poorly. I knew I could do better. 

It took me fifty years to get rid of my predecessor. I plotted and planned slowly and carefully. It was easy to find evidence of her misdeeds. I only needed to keep it close to my chest. Some of your sisters and brothers in the harem will concoct elaborate schemes to frame one another. That’s risky. Just watch them. Everyone has secrets. 

In the end, my predecessor gave herself just enough rope to hang herself with. The idiot. Kain caught her taking bribes from humans we hadn’t yet managed to domesticate. I might have…let him know about the situation. 

After that, my path to Imperial Consort was clear, and I’ve served for centuries now. Because I’m very good at what I do. 

Do I love the Emperor? Oh dear. My sweet, sweet fledgling. Love is for humans. It has no place in these halls. Here, there is only respect. And the Emperor and I respect one another deeply. We are so alike, he and I. Our ambition is boundless and we both understand that the only thing in this world that matters is power. Forget love. 

Run along, now. I’m sure you’re anxious to serve Lord Rahab. I said we’ll see quite a lot of one another, and we will. I do oversee all of the harems here, after all. 


	3. Things We Lost in the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OCtober 2020, prompt group #1: Time Capsule/Message for a Past Self.
> 
> Nenetesh wanders through the ashes of Freeport and finds something she'd forgotten all about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was not posted to r/fanfiction. I wasn't thrilled with the first draft and left it half-finished.

Nenetesh crushed a charred human hand underfoot as she surveyed the ruins of Freeport. The Razielim had left nothing behind. Satisfaction swelled in her chest. How she’d hated this place and the people in it. They’d mistreated her when she was an innkeeper. They mistreated her by sending her to Kain as a _gift,_ completely forgetting that she was a human being and not a decoration or a toy. 

She had no loyalty to the citizens of Freeport. Once Raziel had learned that her information was good, he had welcomed and accepted her more than any human ever had. He’d even promised to turn her as soon as he got Kain’s permission to do so. 

“Let’s go further in,” she called to the company of Razielim behind her. “I want to see the rest of the ruins.” 

Every ruined building they passed made Nenetesh’s chest swell with pride. _All of this is my doing. And it’s no less than what they deserved._

Raziel walked alongside her. “Are there valuables?” 

“The gold stores will be here, beneath the mayor’s house,” she said, turning to face Raziel with a polite bow. “There may be valuable goods aboard any ships docked here…if those weren’t burned as well.” 

Raziel nodded. “You three, check beneath the Mayor’s house. The rest of you, secure the docks and any surviving ships.” 

The soldiers bowed and dispersed. 

Nenetesh walked closer to the center of town, to the inn that had once belonged to her father. The upper level had been completely burned, but the wine cellar remained. She walked toward it. The ashes were still warm, but cool enough that Nenetesh could enter. 

A small wooden box caught her eye. It was in the corner, carefully wedged between two old barrels that hadn’t been moved in years. 

_“What we used to do in my village was put our most cherished childhood treasures in a box and hide it, so that we can see how we’ve changed when we stumble on it as adults.”_

Her father’s voice echoed in her memory. She walked through the ruined cellar and picked up the box. She remembered making this with her father. He’d carved daisies in the wood. How she’d loved daisies. 

_“What treasures will you put in the box, Best Beloved?”_

_“These!”_

_Papa smiles so bright he might be the sun, white teeth set in a dark face._

Nenetesh opened the box automatically, as if her child self had taken over her body to double-check the contents of the box one more time before hiding it away in the wine cellar.

A little wooden top. A tiger her mother had made out of paper. A smooth stone and a piece of colored sea glass she’d found on the shore, looking for clams with her father. A daisy she pressed between the pages of a book.

Her back teeth ground hard together as she slammed the box shut. Tears stung her eyes but she would not, could not, _refused_ to cry in front of the vampires. 

“What’s this?” Raziel had followed her, and his golden eyes lingered on the small box in Nenetesh’s hands. 

“Garbage. Burn it with the rest.” 


	4. Shades Cast No Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Group 1-1: Time Capsule/Message
> 
> Amara drops off a wooden casket in a hidden part of Avernus so its intended recipient can find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all, I wrote this before I knew that the Reaver was supposed to go to the Pillars for Moebius/William the Just to find. turns out the last decade of my life was a lie XD
> 
> As for where Elder Kain is? Who knows? Perhaps hes's trapped in the Demon Dimension. Perhaps he's ascended to godhood.

_I’m just in time,_ Amara thought as she laid the heavy wooden casket on the white marble altar. Any sooner, and someone other than the intended recipient could have found it. Any later, and the resulting disruption in the Timestream could have ejected her from it.

It was strange to be in this section of the great Avernus Cathedral while the city around it burned. Here, all was quiet and peaceful. She’d had to carry the casket up a stairway that felt as though it would never end, and when she reached the top she could have sworn she had walked into Heaven itself. Everything here was white marble and pure sunlight.

It was strange to know that at this exact moment, the Kain she knew was engaging in his final, climactic battle with Raziel while the Kain who had only recently been turned was making his way through the cathedral to find what she was leaving here. He would rise, and he would fall, and he would find his salvation between.

Being here felt _wrong._ Kain should have been the one to do this. This was _his_ legacy. 

_But he can’t be here, and I can. And this is my duty._ She was surprised to feel a pang of grief--Kain would never have been someone Amara would have called “friend”, and yet his absence hung around her like a heavy shroud.

 _I want to look at it one more time._ Her hands brushed the smooth, worn casket lid. She took a deep breath and slowly lifted it.

The Soul Reaver looked as it always had--ancient, and worn. The steel of the wavy blade was dark and pitted in places, its shine dulled after millennia of wear and tear. Her throat felt tight and her eyes stung. Despite herself, she reached into the casket and ran her fingers along the blade, feeling the energy that hummed through it as it rose up to greet her touch.

 _If I don’t stop now, I’ll never be able to let it go._ She closed the lid softly.

Footfalls echoed in the empty hallways. Amara pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and ducked between two statues of hooded figures while she fumbled for her Timestreaming Device.Why was now the time when she wasn’t able to find it? Why wasn’t it in the pocket she’d put it in? This wasn’t the plan! As the footsteps came closer Amara gave up her search with a disgusted huff and stood straight and still, hoping to blend into the row of statues.

Knowing who was coming did nothing to dull the shock Amara felt as he came into view.

She had known Kain as a powerful elder vampire, and she had known Kain as an arrogant princeling. But she had never known Kain as a fledgling. His white-silver hair was the same, and he was tall and well-muscled as he’d always been, but the fledgling Kain seemed smaller. Frailer. Maybe it was that he still looked mostly human. Maybe it was that, despite his arrogant bearing, he didn’t yet have the surety his older self would.

She watched as he approached the casket, opened it, and marveled at the contents. He reached in and Amara knew he was running his fingertips along the blade and feeling fate call him to take it up. He tossed the iron sword he’d been carrying aside and gingerly lifted the Soul Reaver out of the casket, swinging it a few times as if to test its balance and the way it felt in his hand.

Amara wanted to talk to him. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, to warn him about and yet she stayed rooted to the spot. No. It wouldn’t matter. What would she say? And even if she was able to speak to him, nothing she said would change anything. History was already written. She couldn’t change it because she _didn’t._

While he was still looking at the Soul Reaver Amara started fumbling for her Timestreaming Device again. Her hand closed around it and she ran her thumb along the runes that would return her to the future Kain’s older self had rebuilt.

“Who’s there?” Kain turned on his heel, piercing golden eyes fixed on the place where Amara was standing. Still, she said nothing. He turned back in the other direction, scanning the hallway for any threat.

When he looked back at the place where Amara had been standing, there was nothing there.

_Shades cast no shadows._ ****  
  



	5. Her Lethal Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imperial Consort Nenetesh gives her latest charge some unsolicited advice. 
> 
> Prompt Group #1-1: A message for her past self.

“Sit.” Nenetesh pointed at a red velvet stool.

The girl from across the sea sat quietly and neatly folded her hands in her lap. Excellent, she could follow basic instructions.

Getting that girl out of those miserable clothes and into a chambermaid’s uniform had improved her appearance _somewhat_. Compared to the other women in the Inner Sanctuary, the girl was little more than wallpaper. She wasn’t going to turn heads or make any of Dumah’s concubines worried about losing their position, that was for certain. Nenetesh clicked her tongue and circled her charge with a critical eye. Clawed fingers closed around a lock of ash-blonde hair.

“Zilpah!”

A small maid with mousy brown hair emerged before Nenetesh had even finished speaking and bowed low, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the ground until she was given permission to look up.

“How may I serve?”

Nenetesh held up the lock of hair so that Zilpah could see it. “Do something with...this. Plait it. I don’t care. No need to do anything elaborate, she’s only going to be Noble Consort Eph’s maid. Just make her presentable.”

Zilpah nodded and retreated back down the hallway she came from, reappearing moments later with everything she needed to plait the new girl’s hair.

Nenetesh observed the girl from across the sea while Zilpah worked. Posture? Needed work. Comportment? Bearing? None to speak of.

“The rules in the Sanctuary of the Clans are different from the rules outside,” she finally said. “I’ll leave it to your mistress to teach you the finer points. I will, however, explain the very basic rules.” She paused. “Rank is everything here. Everyone is to be referred to by their title. When you meet someone in the halls or alleys of a higher rank, bow and give them the right-of-way. In the unlikely event that you pass Emperor Kain or any of his sons, drop to your knees while they pass and do not look at or speak to them unless they speak to you first.”

The girl tried to nod but was immobilized by Zilpah’s efforts with her hair.

“And, my dear--forgive me, I don’t remember your name--”

“It’s--”

Nenetesh raised her hand. “No need, my dear. I don’t bother to learn the new girls’ names until they’ve been here for at least a year. Sometimes two.” She smiled. “As I was saying, my dear: I want to give you some advice I wish had been given to me when I was new.”

Zilpah had finished with the plait and was inspecting her work. She bowed and retreated back down the hallway again.

“Once you cross the threshold into the Inner Sanctuary, your only currency will be favor. Nothing else matters, not your skills, or merits, or your…” Nenetesh had very nearly said “your beauty” but that wasn’t a word she would ever use to describe the new girl, “...your unique appearance. Your very life depends on your ability to gain and keep favor with your mistress and, indeed, with the Emperor and his sons as well. In these halls, a woman without favor will fare as well as a nobleman without lands. And you’re going to have to work even harder because you’re a human and humans are, for better or worse, very replaceable.”

“Th-thank you for your advice, Imperial Consort.”

 _Ah, a fast learner. Eph will be pleased._ “There’s one more thing,” Nenetesh continued, “Trust no one. Everyone in the Sanctuary is a pawn using other pawns to try and scrabble up the ranks. Know this: The people who help you most are the ones you should trust the least.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara emerges from a Timestreaming chamber and recognizes where she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't post this one on Reddit because I wasn't happy with it. I'm still iffy.

She stepped out of the Timestreaming Chamber and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the weak light.

 _I’ve been here before._ Amara slowly turned, surveying the ruins before her. _Grey, smoke-choked sky, place is in ruins…am I early?_ She had not quite mastered setting the Timestreaming Chambers properly. _Or am I late?_

The more she looked at where she’d emerged, the more landmarks clawed their way to the front of her memory. 

_This was where I first went back in time, isn’t it? When I was still a girl?_

Her memories were far from intact, but being in this desolate ruin brought something forward. The blue demon. The monsters who might once have been vampires. Clutching the little pendant she never took off and pushing the dial back while she hid in a building. 

_That building,_ she thought, tilting her head. It had been that building, hadn’t it? The symbol of the Sun had been drawn on the wall. That was how she’d known to hide there. She approached the building, looking for the symbol, and saw nothing. 

_I hate_ _timestreaming_ _._

If the drawing wasn’t there, then she had certainly missed the mark. She was in the right aeon, at least, but a few years (decades? _centuries_?) too early.

A stone at the base of the building caught her eye. It looked soft enough to work with. With a heavy sigh, she picked up the stone and set to work drawing the symbol of the Sun on the outer wall of the building. After all, not doing it might disrupt the Timestream, and who knew how great that disruption would be? 

After a few minutes, she stopped and took a step backwards to examine her work. Satisfied, she returned to the Timestreaming Chamber and started fiddling with the dials again. 

_Maybe this time I’ll get it right._


	7. The Last Living Plum Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Amara receives bad news, she rushes out to the garden to clear her head and has a run-in with Kain and the Imperial Consort.
> 
> Prompt Group 2-2: Random words | Death, Necklace, Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for the random words challenge and did not get posted on Reddit because 1: this monster is fifteen pages long and 2: i wasn’t happy with it (and 3: i had so much fun with the other three word challenge I did that I went to a generator to get the nouns for this one. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa)

The parchment in Amara’s hand crumpled into a tiny ball as her fist clenched around it. She closed her eyes and even then the words flashed before her eyes. 

_Valor Hall caught on fire. Noble Consort Eph is dead._

_Noble Consort Eph is dead._

_Noble Consort._

_Eph._

_Dead._

The last time Amara had seen Eph’s face, her delicate, gentle features were as fierce and cold as a blizzard. She had never raised her voice that day, not once, and somehow that was more terrifying than being shouted at would have been.

Amara had begged her to be allowed to stay, had promised to remain in Valor Hall and never make trouble again, but because she’d made the grave mistake of offending Lord Zephon Eph had sent her to Kain’s Mountain Retreat. 

_“When Emperor Kain awakens, you may return. But not until after then.”_

Now Amara was a cloistered sister, praying and keeping watch over the retreat with the others. 

Kain had emerged from stasis early. Just days ago, in fact. Her heart had felt lighter. After all, she had done her penance and kept her head low. Eph would have allowed her back! She promised! Eph called her little sister before. They could be close again! 

In the span of two years, Eph taught her to read, and about courtly manners, and had treated Amara so well that Amara had gone out of her way to protect her from the scheming of the other consorts. 

She could have made it up to her. She could have. 

Now Eph was gone. 

Amara ran out of the dormitory and into the garden without bothering to put on her veil. Hot tears stung her eyes, and then her skin as the cold mountain air chilled them. It wasn’t fair! She had done everything right! Why did it have to be like this? 

She skidded to a halt in front of the first tree she came to, slipping on the snow that covered the ground. Her palms slapped hard against the rough bark as she steadied herself. 

She leaned against the tree and let her tears flow. Her hands clenched and as she wept she slammed her fists into the trunk of the tree, one at a time. Left. Right. Left. Her knuckles stung as much as her eyes did.

“Little bird, what on _Earth_ are you doing?” Amara froze with one fist poised to slam into the tree. She recognized that honey-sweet female voice. The Imperial Consort. 

“That is the last living plum tree in Nosgoth.” A man was speaking now, with a soft, chilly tone. If the woman speaking was Imperial Consort Nenetesh, then the man must have been…

She swallowed and sank to her knees in the snow without turning to face Nenetesh, leaning her head against the tree trunk. _What can I say? What can I even do? How am I going to buy time?_ She took a deep breath, kept her head low, and covered her eyes with her right hand. 

“Little bird?” The Imperial Consort was speaking again and Amara remained perfectly still.

“Respectfully, Your Grace, I’m praying for the spirit of this last living plum tree,” she said softly without raising her eyes or turning. For a moment, all she heard was the breeze rustling the branches. No doubt the vampires were Whispering to one another. That was cheating! Couldn’t they at least use their physical voices? 

Her head was starting to ache and buzz. 

“Stand up,” the man said, “and look at us.” His tone was soft and still there was an undeniable undercurrent of danger in it. 

Amara slowly rose to her feet, brushed the snow off of her dress, and turned to face the vampires. She bowed at the waist, then rose. Today the Imperial Consort was wearing a heavy red wool gown and a short black cloak with fur around the collar. Her dark hair was hidden beneath a tall red hat with a black lace veil trailing behind it.

Beside her stood the Emperor himself. Amara had seen him only once before, when he had come out of stasis, and he still terrified her. She was six feet tall and Kain still stood at least a head taller than she. Only the faintest vestiges of humanity remained in his appearance. He had the same cloven hands and feet as the other elder vampires did but he was even…less human than they were.

His skin was brown with a vaguely green cast (like a patina on copper, she thought) and heavily lined. A bone crest formed around his forehead and ears, resembling a crown. His long, stark-white hair was loose and a few strands danced in the breeze. 

Although Kain’s expression was neutral, there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. 

As her eyes met his, the buzzing in her head intensified. She winced and took a step backward. 

_“Impossible.”_

Was that Kain’s voice? In her head? How? Humans couldn’t Whisper. She looked up at Kain and Nenetesh again and Kain’s demeanor was entirely different. His eyes lingered on the pendant Amara wore, the last physical reminder of her home in a distant era, and his expression had shifted into contempt. Even _hate._

Amara dropped back to her knees and lowered her head. Red petals littered the ground, like drops of blood against the snow. “This Sister has erred and will accept whatever punishment Your Majesty sees fit.” _Is the buzzing getting worse? Am I about to die? Is that why I feel this way? Am I really going to die over a damned tree?_

She was only answered by silence. They must have been Whispering again, damn them. She dare not raise her eyes or move so much as her little finger. After an eternity, Imperial Consort Nenetesh spoke. 

“Get up, little bird,” she cooed. “Go change into a dry habit. Then go kneel in the chapel until Vespers and reflect on your actions.” 

A puff of air escaped Amara’s lungs. She sucked in another deep breath. For a moment she had been waiting for Kain to remove her head with that great and terrible sword he always carried. Spending the next eight hours kneeling was a light punishment compared to that. 

“This Sister does not deserve your mercy,” she said without raising her head. “This Sister is grateful for your kindness.” 

Upon returning to her dormitory and changing into her fresh habit, Amara made her way to the chapel and knelt before the altar. What a close call today. With Kain awake, she’d have to be more careful. Every time she closed her eyes she could see the look of absolute hate in Kain’s expression. Why did he look at her that way? She had never met him before and hadn't yet had a chance to offend him (until today? Was it that she struck the last living plum tree or had he just decided he hated her?). 

She bowed her head and mouthed the prayers she learned as a little girl. She wondered how many she could get through before Vespers. _Assist us mercifully, oh Sun, in these our supplications and prayers, and dispose the way of thy servants toward the attainment of salvation…_

A sharp tap on the shoulder startled her out of her prayers. Amara raised her eyes and found Mother Thyra scowling at her. 

“The Emperor wishes for you to attend him tonight.” The contempt in Mother Thyra’s tone was almost tangible. 

Wait. Attend? _He. Wants. Me?_ Amara bowed her head again and tried to slow her breathing. 

Ju _st keep praying. Breathe. Pray. Breathe. Pray._

As far as she knew, “attending” was a polite way of saying “warming his bed”. Was there no one else? Was the Imperial Consort feeling indisposed? She remembered how very tall Kain was, how strong…how sharp his fangs and claws looked…

_He’ll tear me apart!_

“Were you paying attention, Sister?”

“Yes, Mother Thyra.” 

“Why are you still kneeling here, then? Get up. His Majesty’s attendants are waiting outside.”

Amara swallowed. “Please let me finish this prayer, Mother Thyra.”

“Absolutely not. His Majesty must not be kept waiting.”

Amara rose to her feet as slowly as possible and made her way outside. The world was spinning around her. She fell into the arms of the two female guards who had apparently been sent to collect her. They were vampires. Turelim, judging by the deep green of their mantles. 

“Easy, miss,” said one. “No need to be afraid.” 

_You aren’t on the bottom of the food chain here,_ Amara thought, scowling, _And you also haven’t made the Emperor hate you at first sight._

When they arrived at Kain’s chambers a gaggle of human servants in their forties ushered her into a side room. They removed her habit, assuring her that her clothing would be returned to her when she returned to her dormitory. They then draped her in a thin silk robe and ushered her into a small, warm room with a wooden tub in the middle. A pair of mages warmed the water with magic. At Amara’s approach, they bowed and left the room. 

Amara climbed into the wooden tub and sank into the warm water. _I can’t make sense of it. I don't have a lot of experience with men. I’m not pretty. I don't even think I’m particularly charming or clever. What would he want with me?_

She ran her hands on either side of one leg, and then the other. _I hope he comes from behind so I don't have to see him naked._ God, the very thought of that turned her stomach. Did he even have the equipment? _Ugh, no. I need to stop thinking about that._

A lifetime ago she overheard the concubines gossiping. Turel was boring. Melchiah had unconventional urges. Rahab’s quiet appearance hid a decadent nature.

None of them said a word about Kain. Perhaps he was so perverse they dare not mention it. Perhaps they simply didn't know.

 _I wish I could ask the Imperial Consort. On second thought, no, no I do not._ Imperial Consort Nenetesh had never struck Amara as being the jealous kind but that meant nothing. She’d seen the residents of the harem orchestrate a perceived rival’s murder over something as meaningless as a smile.

A knock echoed through the small room. Amara startled, dropping her washrag into the water with a soft splash. Before she could speak, the same pair of female guards entered the room. Amara sank into the water as far as she could. 

“It’s time.” The guard on the left spoke. “Dry off.”

Amara gripped the edges of the tub so tightly she feared she’d given herself a splinter. _I could just stay in the water. They're vampires. They’re not going to risk seriously hurting themselves to get me out._

“Could you…could you please turn around?” Amara rose, shivering as the air came into contact with her wet skin. _I’m a coward, but I’m not suicidal._ She reached for a dry cloth and patted her skin dry after she climbed out.

“Shall I get a shift?” 

The guards were silent. 

“Did you bring a dress? Anything?” Surely they weren't going to march her over to Kain’s bedchamber without giving her something to wear. 

“There is a silk sheet on the bottom shelf. That is all you require. And that pendant. He specifically requested you wear it.” 

_Of course._ Was that pendant the source of his ire? Was he curious about it? Had it, perhaps, belonged to him once, gone missing, and ended up in Amara’s hands millennia later?

Amara reached for the sheet and wrapped it around herself, trying to make a dress. Insisting on sending whatever unlucky soul that caught Kain’s eye to his chamber wearing nothing but a sheet must have been to deter assassination attempts. For ease of access, too, come to think. Heat prickled across Amara’s cheeks before she even finished the thought. The thought of those claws on her skin made her want to tear the sheet off and run screaming for the hills. 

“You can turn around now,” Amara said, clutching the ends of the sheet in a fist in an attempt to preserve a modicum of modesty.

The Turelim women lifted her into their arms, shielding her from the cold hallways and the gaze of curious sisters. They carried her to a room with heavy double doors and set her down. The guard on the right took one step forward and knocked twice. 

The doors swung open, creaking heavily. Amara stood at the threshold, unable to move her feet. They might as well have become a part of the stone floor. One of the guards sighed and pushed her through, sending her flying to the floor as the doors swung shut behind her. The sheet fell away and Amara scrambled to wrap it back around herself before she rose on unsteady feet. 

She was alone.

It wasn’t an unpleasant room. A massive window framed with red velvet curtains faced the east, overlooking a mountain valley that might have been beautiful before Nosgoth began dying. A chair and table nestled in a corner close to the fireplace. There was an open book on the table, propped up against a stack of other books. _I would not have pegged Kain for a reader,_ she thought. He didn’t seem the bookish sort. If someone had told Amara that Kain’s favorite hobby was releasing humans into the forest and hunting them down she would not have been surprised. But reading? Not just one book, but several? That was unexpected.

The bedroom itself was behind another wall. Amara knocked once on the wooden door, and, when there was no answer, decided to go in anyway. He already despised her. She didn’t exactly have a lot to lose there. 

The bedroom was imposing. There was only a small window here (practically an arrow slit). The bed was positioned against the wall, an enormous covered thing. The frame was made of dark wood, and had a red velvet canopy and curtains. The curtains were open, revealing a neatly made bed with a heavy-looking red comforter and so many pillows. She’d never seen so many! It almost seemed like a waste.

_When you’re the king you can have all the pillows you want, I suppose._

There was another fireplace in this room, on the far side of the wall. It crackled merrily as Amara fiddled with her necklace.

What was she supposed to _do,_ exactly? Unwrap the sheet and lie suggestively on the bed? Maybe keep the sheet wrapped around herself and play the shy virgin? Rip a section of the sheet off and blindfold herself so she wouldn’t have to be subjected to the horror that Kain’s naked body was bound to be? 

_I should pray,_ she thought. _I might never walk out of this room._ She wrapped the sheet around her body, then tucked the ends in, freeing her hands. When she was sure it would stay, she knelt. The Litany for the Dying seemed appropriate here.

_Engine of Life, have mercy on your servant. Devourer of Death, have mercy on your servant. Hub of the Wheel, have mercy on your servant._

A heavy presence loomed behind her. Amara’s head began to ache and buzz again. For whatever reason, the Hymn to the Sun came to her mind next.

_O Sun, You are in my heart. There is no other who knows you. Those on Earth come from Your hand as You made them. When You have dawned, they live. When You have set, they die._

“You may dispense with your false piety.” Kain’s voice sounded behind her, soft, threatening, and a little mocking. God, she hadn’t even heard him enter the room! Had he been there the whole time, watching her flounder? She kept her head low and dared not turn around.

“Prayers for the wicked mustn’t be neglected,” Amara replied. She had not been praying for anyone’s sins at the moment, but Kain didn’t need to know that. She quickly searched her memory for the words Khan Asher had taught her when she had been a child.

Kain almost laughed. “There are no prayers enough for my soul.”

“Oh, no, Your Majesty. Not for you. For me.” Amara kept her tone light and began to mouth the words of the prayer. 

_O gracious Sun, our sins are too heavy to carry, too real to hide, and too deep to undo—_

“For you?” She didn’t need to see his face to know the exact expression of contempt he must have had. 

“For me. I took a vow of chastity, Your Majesty, and—” 

Kain’s laughter echoed through the room. One clawed hand gripped her shoulder, firmly but so delicately he never broke her skin. He lifted her to her feet and forced her to turn to face him. 

“I see Mother Thyra misunderstood my instructions,” he said. “I told her I wanted to speak to you alone.” He released her shoulder and hooked one claw beneath the thin silver chain of her pendant. 

“S-so you’re not—”

“Child, if I intended to have you I would have taken you the moment I entered the room.” 

If Kain’s intention had been to reassure her it had the opposite effect. Her mouth felt like someone had just stuffed it full of alum. She tried to move away and he pushed her against the wall, still keeping his claw hooked underneath the chain. 

“This is a dangerous toy for a little girl to have,” he purred. He tugged on the chain so hard that it broke and examined the pendant. “Where did you get it? Who sent you?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amara hissed. “That’s been mine since I was a little girl. As far as I know, it’s only good for judging the position of the North Star.” Every time she looked at him her head throbbed. She stared firmly down at her bare feet and it wasn’t enough to alleviate her discomfort. Was he doing this to torment her? Did he even know what she was feeling? Did he feel the same way? (probably not or he wouldn’t have gotten this close to her in the first place). “And I used to be a maid in Dumah’s harem. I was sent here and told to remain until you awakened.” 

And now it didn’t matter, she wanted to say, because my mistress is dead.

“If you’re lying, I’ll find out.” One thumb gently traced her cheekbone, then tipped under her chin, forcing her face up toward his.“You can tell me the truth and I can be gentle, or you can continue to be stubborn…” 

“I _am_ telling you the truth! Noble Consort Eph sent me here because I offended Lord Zephon. I have had that pendant since I was a little girl and as far as I know, it’s only good for finding the North Star. The dial in the middle has never worked!” That wasn’t quite true. The dial had worked. Twice. That was how she’d arrived in this godforsaken era.

Kain sighed and wound his arms around her, pressing her close against him. Before Amara could say or do anything else he bit her where her neck joined her shoulder. She shrieked, pounding hard on his back with a fist that looked impossibly small against his massive back. She might as well have been pounding on the trunk of that plum tree for all the good it did her. His mouth worked against her skin, hot and wet and as it did she could feel him shoving his way into her mind. She tried to shove back and _couldn’t._

Memories rushed to the surface as Kain searched her mind. _Summertide. The soul-eater’s attack. Her purely accidental escape. The Blue Demon with glowing white eyes._

 _Given the choice, I would have preferred warming his bed to this,_ she thought and she swore she heard him laughing in her mind. 

_What are you, little girl?_ Kain’s voice touched the edges of her mind like a gentle breeze.

She was getting little light-headed as Kain continued to drink from her. Her head lolled back. Kain groaned and cupped her head with one hand as he pressed her closer against him with his other arm. (He was hard everywhere had he changed his mind about having her?) 

He made no move to push the sheet Amara was wrapped in aside, or to remove any of his own clothing.

Small comfort. 

The buzzing and throbbing in her head were unbearable. Her head was going to explode. This was how she was going to die. Her head was going to burst while the unholy king of the vampires drained her of her blood. He pushed his way through more recent memories now, sucking against the wound he made with more urgency.

_The first time she met Noble Consort Eph and Isa._

_The first time she met Dumah._

_The last time she saw Noble Consort Eph and Isa._

It couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes since he’d bitten her butit felt like forever. He pulled his mouth away abruptly, roughly severing their mental connection. His hold on her loosened. Her knees buckled and Kain kept her steady and helped her to the bed, easing her into a sitting position. He tugged on a rope she hadn’t noticed and almost at once, a servant appeared at the door.

“Fetch this one some bread and water. Summon a healer.” The servant bowed and vanished.

_What game is he playing? He was merciless before and now he’s pretending to take care of me? What does he want?_

The buzzing and throbbing in her head hadn’t abated. She massaged her temples, wishing to be allowed to leave (or for Kain to leave.) 

She felt a soft cloth press hard against the place where he’d bitten her. 

“Hold that there until the healer arrives.” Kain’s voice was soft, gentle. He still held Amara’s pendant in his hand. Automatically, Amara reached for the cloth and pressed it against her wound. 

“What do you want?” Amara hadn’t meant to blurt it out. “You were perfectly happy to kill me and now you’re acting like—like—” 

“You weren’t lying.” There was an odd glint of satisfaction in his golden eyes. She hadn’t _lied,_ per se, but she certainly hadn’t been entirely truthful. What’s more, Kain _knew_ that she hadn’t been entirely truthful, and yet—he seemed almost happy? What had he seen that had made him change his mind?

Kain’s hand closed tight around the pendant. “You won’t be needing this.” 

“Your Majesty, please. I—I think I need it to return home.” There was no need to continue the pretense of having come from across the sea now. Kain had forced her to relive her memories and watched them himself.

“I thought it was broken?” Kain’s eyes narrowed. 

“It is but—what if—”

“No.” Kain squeezed his hand into a ball. Amara heard the delicate gears in the pendant snap. “You haven’t a home to return to, now do you? So there’s no sense keeping this.” 

Amara’s eyes stung as she tried to contain her tears. How could he? Why would he? And reminding her that she had nothing left in her own time was salt in a raw wound.

“You don’t know it, girl, but I’ve done you a great favor.” He rose to his feet and threw the pieces of the pendant into the fireplace. “Rest until the healer arrives. I have other business to attend to.” 

The next morning, Amara was getting dressed in the dormitory while Novice Astrid bombarded her with questions. News of her going to Kain’s chambers the night before spread like wildfire throughout the nuns’ quarters (Mother Thyra’s doing, no doubt) and the gossip machine was already whirring at full speed.

“What was he like?” Astrid spoke in a breathy whisper, her brown eyes darting about the room. “Was he rough? Is it true that he’s got a giant—” 

“His Majesty is kind and magnanimous,” Amara said flatly, before Astrid could finish. “He refused to allow me to break my vow of chastity when I told him I had taken it.” 

“But he marked you!” Astrid poked at the scab on Amara’s shoulder. Amara winced and sharply slapped Astrid’s hand away.

“He heard that I came from across the sea and wanted to taste my blood. That was all. Mother Thyra simply misunderstood his instructions.” 


	8. Sunless Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paladin Amara and the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.
> 
> Prompt Group #2-1: Whump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I went out of order. Also this week is all Amara. Sorry about that. Her Grace the HBIC will be back next week.
> 
> This one did get posted on Reddit. I made some edits though. A writer's work is never done etc etc etc

The blue demon’s glowing white eyes lingered on hers and Amara was struck by how expressive the beast’s face was considering it was little more than a skull. They stood almost nose-to-nose. 

A sharp, burning pain ripped through her stomach and she glanced down, wide-eyed, her gaze fixed on the blade the demon had run through her. It was unlike any weapon she’d ever seen before, made of a soft pale blue light that wound itself around the demon’s sword arm and yet as solid as a real sword. It had gone clean through her cuiress and gambeson as though she hadn't been wearing armor at all.

The demon roughly pulled the weapon out and Amara stood, dumbfounded, swaying on unsteady feet. Instinctively, she pressed her hands against the wound, useless though it was.

_He sent me to a fight he knew I would die in. He promised he would care for me like a father, and--_

Rain pelted Amara’s face but she barely noticed. Her gaze fixed on the bright crimson blood pooling between her fingers. Before she could do anything else the blue demon roughly shoved her to the muddy ground and went into the crypt she’d fought so hard to keep him out of. He was holding a throbbing black heart in one clawed hand.

_What father knowingly sends his daughter to a death like this?_

Being stabbed in the belly was no guarantee of a quick death. Men on the battlefield lingered for hours or even days as infection poisoned their bodies. Amara prayed she would be lucky enough to at least die on the same day.

The pain was indescribable, searing, and the rain made it worse. She curled into a ball first, as if that would do anything to help, and then decided that since she was going to die she might as well crawl into the crypt and die dry.

If she was lucky, the demon would still be there and would finish her off. Maybe he’d even managed to resurrect the ancient vampire laid to rest in the crypt and they’d both end her. It would be better than this, being left to suffer and die in the rain and muck.

She rolled over onto her stomach, gasping for breath at the pain, then tried to crawl toward the entrance of the crypt. _One hand in front of the other. Slow. Easy. God, does plate armor make this harder._ Amara managed to drag herself into the crypt’s doorway and she stopped, drawing labored, ragged breaths.

The crypt was empty. Candles bathed the chamber in a warm yellow glow. The stone pedestal where the body of Janos Audron had lain for five centuries no longer had an occupant. Moebius told her that the ancient vampire had to stay dead or the world would suffer a cataclysmic event. He sent her to stop anyone who would dare try to resurrect Janos.

_I failed, and the world will suffer._

Tears cut a track through the mud and grime on Amara’s cheeks. She tried to push herself up, to stand, but her arms gave way and she fell face-down on the cold, stone floor of the crypt.

This was it, then. This was where she was going to die. A flood of memories bloomed behind her eyes.

“ _I married the prettiest girl this side of Saraba!_ ” _Gustav spins her so fast her flower crown flies off but Amara is too overjoyed to care._

_Gustav tackles the vampire and it breaks his neck with one hand._

_Her shoe flies off of her foot and hits Lord Dumah right at the crown of his head._

_She plucks the broom out of Isa_ ’ _s hands and runs around the courtyard with it just to make Eph laugh._

 _The lullaby Mama always_ _sang, but I don_ ’ _t remember the words now._ Wasn’t it sad and strange to remember so much and so little at the same time?

More memories pushed their way to the front of Amara’s mind.

_Bleeding blue palms pressed together and a vow to meet, life after life, until the Wheel stops turning._

_The ice gives way and she plunges straight down into water so cold it knocks the breath from her. She surfaces, coughs, and sinks down again--_

_Strong arms pull her from the depths and lift her into the air, then onto the shore. A flurry of noise, the twang of bowstrings, shouting men and clanking armor. She shivers on the shore while someone she doesn’t see wraps her in a fur._

_A single black feather rests on the surface of the ice._

Amara wanted to roll over onto her back but couldn’t muster the strength to do it.

 _So my great destiny is to die cold, wet, and alone in the bowels of Vorador_ ’ _s mansion, so deep in the_ _Termogent_ _Forest that no one will ever find me or know that I was here. Everything I went through was for nothing._

Her thoughts drifted to the village priest, Asher. She had been so devout once, a lifetime ago. Maybe praying now would give her some measure of comfort.

“O, Sun, look on this, your servant lying in great weakness…” She only had the strength to whisper. That prayer was too long. Better just recite the Litany for the Dying. 

“Engine of Life, have mercy on your servant.”

“Devourer of Death, have mercy on your servant.” Another voice joined hers, a man’s, soft and kind, with an accent she’d never heard before.

“Hub of the Wheel, have mercy on your servant.” As Amara and the stranger said the last line together he gently rolled her over and lifted her into his arms, cradling her like a child.

The stranger was darkly beautiful, lean, with blue skin, black hair that was just beginning to gray, golden eyes, and enormous black-feathered wings he wrapped around them both like a shroud. A halo of soft yellow candlelight surrounded his head as though he were the Angel of Death himself.

If Amara were to guess his age she would have thought he was in his early forties, but he seemed both ageless and immeasurably old at the same time. He wore a sleeveless white robe that was open in the center, exposing his chest--and the scar in the center, where his sternum might have been opened once…

The scar. The heart. The tomb that should have been occupied but wasn't. 

“...Janos Audron?”


	9. Matte Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nenetesh had commissioned a new tabard for Kain, to be made with the best materials. When the most expensive material goes missing, Nenetesh is furious. 
> 
> Woe to the fool who took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all get an extra chapter this week because you're all fantastic (and because I didn't do a Whump prompt for Nenetesh. Whoops)
> 
> The three words: Store, snap, note

Nenetesh snapped her folding fan closed and narrowed her eyes at the young Rahabim manning the Embroidery House storeroom. “My apologies. I don’t believe that I heard you correctly. Did you say that you haven’t started on the work I commissioned because the peacock thread is _missing_?” Not even the simplest human child would miss the undercurrent of danger in the Imperial Consort’s tone.

“I--well--just--” He sucked his lower lip between his teeth, eyes roving around the storeroom.

“You are aware of the difficulty and expense of producing peacock thread, are you not? A quarter-inch costs more than you make in six months. And you’ve _lost it_?” Neneteshs’s voice never rose above a whisper.

“I--Y-your Grace--I could look again?” He edged away from the counter, toward the curtain that separated the front of the store from the back, where all of the fabrics and notions were kept.

“See that you do. Send a messenger as soon as you locate it. Hmph, and I thought Rahabim were the best at keeping things organized.” Nenetesh snapped her fan back open, took her maid’s arm, and turned on her heel. Her red skirt swirled around her feet like a tiny fire.

Everyone in the Inner Sanctuary knew she had commissioned the Embroidery House to make Kain a new tabard, and his emblem was to be embroidered entirely with the peacock thread. No one would dare to use that thread for anything else...would they? Who in the Seven Halls would think to undermine Imperial Consort Nenetesh?

As she rounded a corner a little human boy tugged at her skirt. “Y-your Grace!” His little tunic was purple, with Dumah’s clan insignia embroidered on it.

Her mouth tightened into a line, and her maid, sensing the danger, released Nenetesh’s arm and placed herself between Nenetesh and the little boy. “I’m afraid Her Grace isn’t in the mood to talk right now,” she said with a gentle smile.

“Someone dropped this, Your Grace. You said we should give you any notes we find,” the little boy said. He opened his little fist to reveal a crumpled piece of parchment.

“Zilpah, let me see that.”

Zilpah nodded, took the crumpled parchment from the boy, and dutifully handed it to her mistress. Nenetesh snapped it out of her hand. The ink was smeared but still legible.

_I have the thread. I hid it in that concubine’s room, like you asked._

Nenetesh crushed the note in her fist, but smiled at the little boy. She motioned to Zilpah, who produced a small sweet from her sleeve and handed it to her. She knelt so that she was eye-level with the child and handed him the candy. “You were very helpful today, youngling. Thank you. Keep bringing me any notes you find.” Then she rose, held out her arm for Zilpah, and continued her walk to the Amber Hall.

“Your Grace, what was that about?”

“I believe I have a lead on our missing thread.”

As they walked, Nenetesh rolled the contents of the note around in her mind.The little boy belonged to the Dumahim. That note must, therefore, have been dropped in Dumah’s part of the Sanctuary. By whom? A concubine? A servant of a concubine? Whoever had written the note would have been someone with access to the Embroidery House storeroom. That fact alone ruled out a significant chunk of the Inner Sanctuary staff.

She closed her fan again and tapped it against her palm. If the little boy had belonged to the Zephonim she would have at least had a place to start. Zephon’s concubines were always at war with one another. (That loathsome insect clearly liked his concubines to be as petty, deceitful, and ambitious as he). Dumah’s harem, on the other hand, was usually quiet. Nenetesh couldn’t think of the last time she’d heard of any overt rivalries there.

Come to think, Dumah had taken a human concubine recently. It wasn’t unusual for human concubines to be vicious with one another in an attempt to gain status, however, there were no other humans in Dumah’s harem. Nenetesh scowled. What idiot vampire would be so concerned about those creatures of a day when they could simply wait for the human to get old, or boring, or die?

 _Is Noble Consort Livia really so petty? Or is it one of the others?_ Luckily, Dumah kept his harem small, which made it much easier for her to remember who was who. _There is Noble Consort Livia, Consort Halla, Consort Orieldis, a dozen unmemorable concubines, and the human. Halla is much more interested in Orieldis than in getting rid of a lower-ranking human girl, Orieldis has no interest in anyone who ranks lower than she and no reason to get someone into trouble with me, and the concubines aren’t allowed unsupervised access anywhere outside of their Hall._

“Oh.” Nenetesh had said it aloud as they reached the gates of the Amber Hall. She had begun to understand who had taken the peacock thread and why.

Zilpah tilted her head. “Your Grace?”

“Zilpah, be a dear and go to Dumah’s harem. Invite Noble Consort Livia over for a drink, please.”

Zilpah bowed and hurried away. Nenetesh entered the Amber Hall and sank into her chair. Noble Consort Livia had a lot of explaining to do.

A little while later, Zilpah returned with Noble Consort Livia and her own maid. Livia had certainly dressed up for the occasion. She wore a diaphanous purple silk gown that paired well with her alabaster skin and clung to her every curve. She was positively dripping with silver and jewels. Her dark hair was elaborately piled onto her head.

“Greetings, Imperial Consort,” she said as she sank into a deep curtsy. Nenetesh languidly rose from her chair, snapped her folding fan closed yet again, and flashed a too-sweet smile.

“Peace to you, Noble Consort Livia.” In one fluid moment she swung her hand at Livia, striking her across the cheek with her folding fan so hard that Livia stumbled backward and nearly fell. Her maid steadied her and helped her remain on her feet.

“Y-your Grace?” Livia rubbed her bleeding cheek and gaped at Nenetesh. Her mouth worked as though she were trying and failing to think of something to say.

“What were you _thinking_ , Livia?” Nenetesh hissed. “How dare you try to undermine the gift I’ve commissioned for Lord Kain and blame someone else for it!”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Did you _think_ that I wouldn’t find out? The tiniest mouse can’t scurry down these halls without me knowing about it, and you’re arrogant enough to think you can do as you like and I’ll be none the wiser?” She circled Livia, slowly, still scowling.

“I have the thread. I hid it in that concubine’s room, like you asked,” she lilted, reciting the note’s contents from memory. “You _imbecile._ You and I both know that a mere concubine wouldn’t have the influence or unfettered access to the Inner Sanctuary to engineer the theft of something as valuable as peacock thread.”

Livia would have blanched if she weren’t already so pale. Her eyes darted around the room as though she were desperately seeking an exit. “I truly don’t know--I’ve been framed--Y-your Grace--”

“Are you going to lie to me and deny any knowledge of this? The corners of Nenetesh’s mouth turned up ever so slightly. _Oh, Livia. You could practice lying for a century and still never be good enough at it to fool me._ “Tell me why you’ve behaved so rashly. What has that little human done to you for you to be so desperate to be rid of her?”

“S-she knows. I don’t know how she knows, but she knows.”

“Forgive me, Livia dear, but I’m not sure I understand what it is that she knows.”

“About the fire. About... “ Livia looked around the room again and lowered her voice. “About Eph. What if she tells Lord Dumah?”

Nenetesh kept her expression a visage of calm but beneath it she was seething. Livia’s stupidity was simply appalling. Hatching a convoluted plan to undermine Nenetesh and pin the blame on someone else? The height of idiocy. There were far easier ways to eliminate a rival.

“And if she tells Lord Dumah, who do you think he will believe, Livia?” Nenetesh purred. “A human who has only been in the harem for a few months and can’t possibly have proof, or you, his highest-ranking consort?” Nenetesh shook her head and sighed. “I don’t understand why you’re so concerned. The moment she loses her looks or his eye she’ll be sent to the blood farms anyway.”

Livia’s head sank. “B-but--”

“You must not have covered your tracks very well if even a human could figure out you were behind it. I’m _very_ disappointed in you, Livia.” She frowned and slowly returned to her seat. “I believe that when I agreed to help you rise through the ranks that you promised to be loyal to me. How is trying to ruin a very valuable gift I’m having made for our Lord showing me any kind of loyalty?”

“I-I--Your Grace, please, I was afraid--he favors her so much already!”

Nenetesh barely contained her annoyed sigh. “Of course he does! She’s new and exciting! Don’t you remember when you were the shiny new bauble?” She neatly folded her arms across her chest. “Now, Livia. You are going to return the thread to the Embroidery House. I don’t care how you do it, I just want it done. Before tomorrow.”

Livia sank to her knees and nodded fervently. “Yes, Your Grace! I’ll see it done right away!”

“And after you’ve done that you are to confine yourself to your quarters for a fortnight and reflect on your actions. No one except your servants can enter, and no one except your servants can leave. Do you understand?”

Livia nodded, bowed so low her forehead touched the ground, but was otherwise silent.

“Good. Get up. You’re excused. I’ll be checking in to ensure that the peacock thread has been returned.”

Livia rose to her feet, unsteadily, leaning on her maid for support. “Your Grace is wise and merciful. I accept your judgement.” She bowed her head again, then slowly backed out of the room. When she was gone, Nenetesh turned to Zilpah.

“Remind me, Zilpah, who that human Dumah took as a concubine is?”

“I don’t remember her name, Your Grace, but I believe that she was a member of the Snow Sisters. Before that, she was Noble Consort Eph’s maid.”

It dawned on Nenetesh then just who Livia was dealing with. _The girl from across the sea with the smart mouth and knack for the Game._ She chuckled. “Let’s have eyes on her, Zilpah. The Game is going to be very interesting for a while…” 


End file.
